Murphy's Law
by hakuse-kun
Summary: Attempted re-write of the Red Faction: Guerrilla storyline. More realistic warfare, hopefully fleshed-out characters, and a squad for Mason. Starts pre-game. Less focus on a single character; more of a big-picture type of thing.


"Red Nine, the convoy's moving again. Are the charges set?" the still unfamiliar voice crackled into Murphy's ear, almost causing him to fumble the bomb's wiring. He cursed quietly before muttering a reply.

"We're almost done, Control. Just a couple more to go," he said as he twisted two cords together, "Actually, make that one left." He eased the panel shut on the charge, then dropped back down onto the catwalk below. A path of them hung under the bridge, meant for maintenance but now used for something far different. He gave a quick thumbs up to Red Ten, whose real name he couldn't recall, then made his way over to Mason. Their newest demo man was still fiddling with the final explosive, taking longer than was convenient.

"Something wrong, Red Leader?" Mason questioned, smiling at his joke. Murphy grunted and peered over the rookie's shoulder. Mason was replacing one of the pre-set blasting caps with a spare. He gave the man a light slap on the back and went to checking the other charges, making sure they were all armed. After a few moments, Mason turned and gave a thumbs up, and the three-man squad jogged down the catwalks to the end of the construct and snuck up onto the top of an over-looking hill. Murphy and Mason laid down facing the bridge while Red Ten settled down on his back to watch the rear. Murphy fished the detonator out his pocket and Mason produced a pair of binoculars. Murphy tapped his headset and spoke.

"Control, do you copy?" he received an affirmative and continued, "The charges are set and we're in position. What's the convoy's ETA?"

"It's due in about fifteen minutes. Out." Control's response was breif.

"Fifteen minutes." Murphy said aloud. Mason grunted and Red Ten slapped at Murphy's leg in acknowledgment. Murphy checked his watch. Several long moments passed before Mason perked up.

"Fifteen minutes my ass! There they are!" came the hushed exclamation. Murphy hurriedly popped off the detonator's cap and stared toward the opposite end of the bridge. Sure enough, he could barely make out several vehicle-shaped silhouettes through the darkness. Their headlights were off. Murphy cursed with a small grin, surprised at the drones' forethought.

They waited until the whole convoy was on the bridge, then Mason whispered something loudly and Murphy thumbed the detonator. Explosions rocked the night and the roar nearly deafened them. Murphy's massive grin fell, though, when the bridge remained whole. Mason was strangely quiet while Murphy slammed his fist into the dirt and barely contained a scream of frustration. Suddenly, the front vehicle in the convey accelerated madly towards their end of the bridge... and disappeared.

There was a split second of dead silence, then the sound of screeching metal tore it to shreds. Murphy felt a small tremor in the ground, then the bridge began to crumble, starting from their end and finishing at the other. Murphy's grin returned full force, and the small group moved quickly torward their parked vehicle, eager to return to base.

---

The truck hit a particularly rough patch of road and Murphy nearly knocked his headset off. He sighed and moved it back into place before he spoke.

"Control, this is Red Ten, do you copy?" Murphy asked.

"This is control. Has the convoy been eliminated?" came the return inquiry.

"Affirmative. We're heading back to base now," Murphy glanced out the window as he talked, still antsy.

"Negative; that is a negatory, Red Ten," Mason gave him a concerned look when he groaned, and Control continued, "Listen! The drones have set up a checkpoint at the north Badlands/Dust border road. They're taking and holding anyone who tries to pass.

"I need you guys to arm up at the northeastern outpost, then make contact with the rest of the assault force south of the checkpoint. Hurry, we need to free those prisoners before they're moved!" Murphy came close to throwing his headset out the window in a fit of rage, but managed to calm down enough to speak in a low voice.

"Red Ten, take us to the northeast outpost, we need to get some guns," he ordered, then paused for a moment and added, "Step on it. We're on the clock."

"Yessir. Name's Bart, by the way." Bart said lowly, not taking his eyes off the road. They drove for several tense minutes before Mason pointed at one of the buildings and muttered something to Bart. They pulled over and left the car a couple of blocks short. The outpost was small and, at the moment, deserted. Several computers lined the walls and a door in the back led to the armory. Mason opened the door with unnecessary caution, tense from either their recent operation or the one still to come. Bart walked in after him and gave a low whistle.

"This is the good stuff, mates!" Bart ran his hand over a rack of assault rifles before picking out a strange gun that looked like a compact sniper rifle. He tossed it to Murphy.

"What is this thing?" Murphy asked.

"Looks like a sniper rifle to me," Mason said, glancing over his shoulder.

"I figured, since you're our radio-man," Bart began, "that you'd want to hang back and cover us. Better view of the situation and all." The statement sounded strange, since each member of the squad had a headset, but Murphy's was the only one with long-range capability. He nodded and moved to grab the four clips of ammunition that had been sitting next to the gun. He swung the strange rifle over his shoulder, only to have Mason shove an assault rifle into his arms.

"For close encounters," he said with a smirk. Murphy gave a small salute and turned to exit the buiilding. He kept an eye out while he waited outside. Mason and Bart joined him in short order, and the trio made their way to the truck. Once they were all piled in, Bart driving again, Murphy touched his headset.

"Control, we're armed and ready to go. What's the sitrep?" Murphy slammed into the side door when Bart turned a tight curve. Chagrined, he strapped on his seatbelt as he listened. Control was silent for a moment, and Murphy was about to try again when the reply crackled into his ear.

"I've got bad news, Red Ten. One of our squads jumped the gun and attacked on their own. We know at least one of them was captured and not killed. The drones know we're coming," Murphy cursed loudly and Mason let out a groan when Murphy repeated the message to his team.

"Any change in plans, control?" Murphy asked after he calmed down.

"No, go ahead with the operation as normal. Out," stubborn bastards, Murphy thought. Bart took another hard curve and Murphy was glad not to slam against anything this time. They rode in silence for ten or so minutes until they took another turn. The second they cleared the turn a plasma beam streaked through the front windshield and passed a few inches from Murphy's ear, burning the ends of several hairs.

"Heads down!" came Bart's frantic yell, and another plasma bolt slammed into the ground beside the truck, sending it tumbling onto its side. Murphy fiddled with his seatbelt for a secong before Mason seized the belt and shot through it with his rifle. They all clambered from the truck, gunfire flying over their heads, and ran for cover. A few seconds later, a stray bolt hit the puddle of fuel leaking from the truck's tank. The explosion lit up the area enough for Murphy to spot an EDF soldier turning a plasma turret in his direction.

He dove behind a large rock beside the road; Bart tackled Mason to the ground, saving him from a burst of gunfire that would have taken off his head. The pair rolled on the ground, barely avoiding a hail of bullets, and took up positions on either side of Murphy. He slammed his hand onto his headset and started shouting.

"Control, we're under heavy fire! What the hell is going on here?" Murphy yelled, and Bart peeked around the side of the rock. He jerked his head back half a second before tracer rounds pinged along the ground close to where it had been. Murphy caught the sounds of panicked shouting over his headset for a few seconds before the hated voice rose over the din.

"Our squads were spotted by an enemy sniper. Help is on the way. Out," Murphy screamed and slammed his fist against the rock he leaned against. He switched to the Factions open channel and was immediately assaulted by the sounds of screaming and even more gunfire.

"What's going on here? I need a sitrep and Control isn't doing its job!" he yelled.

"Oh, thank God! Reinforcements! Look, we need that plasma turret taken out, and the MGs if you can get 'em. If you can get that done, we can move up and secure a foothold," an unfamiliar voice ground out. Murphy shook his head, dumbfounded. His shoulders slumped, and he resigned himself to a long night. Mason clapped him on the shoulder.

"What're our orders, Murphy?" he asked, and Bart leaned around to hear better. Murphy cracked his neck.

"Alright, those turrets need to go! Bart, I'm going to take care of that plasma turret; it's what's giving the MGs enough light to see us. After it stops firing, I want you to put that rocket launcher to good use and take out the MG nests. Mason, suppressing fire!" The trio went into action, Murphy laying down on his side and peeking around the rock with his sniper rifle.

Looking down the scope, he was pleasantly surprised with its X-Ray capabilities. While he lined up his shot, Bart loaded his rocket launcher and crouched in a ready position. Mason peeked over the rock and took a few potshots at an MG nest before ducking down again. Murphy squeezed the trigger. The blue beam from his rifle vaporized the turret-man's head. His partner ducked down behind cover, but Murphy just shot him through it. Bart's rocket launcher erupted in a bright display of yellow light, and one of the MG towers exploded. Mason began his suppressing fire in earnest.

Murphy spotted what was obviously a merged RF squad moving up to the compound's wall. He shot several guards waiting on the other side while they planted explosives. Bart blew up the final MG nest and Murphy used the opportunity to scan the compound for the prisoners. He touched his headset.

"The prisoners are holed up in the right-side barracks. Three guards; they'll be down shortly," and indeed, three shot's from his rifle later, only the prisoners remained. Mason suddenly cursed and yanked Murphy away from his side of the rock. Plasma hit the ground near where he had been, knocking up clots of dirt. Bart took care of the turret, for good this time. Several seconds later, Murphy regained enough of his bearings to look back around the rock and saw a large semi barrel through the compound's gates like they were tissue paper. It drove up next to them and stopped. The container's doors flew open and a man he didn't recognize offered a hand.


End file.
